


hold your breath

by murphamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphamy/pseuds/murphamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy approaches him with a cat-like grin. "I can help you out, you know." His hands are hovering near Bellamy's waist now, fingertips brushing the blue cloth of his shirt. "If you return the favour."</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold your breath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the 100 kink meme!

"If you weren't so damn incompetent-"

"Big word, Bell."

"-then we wouldn't still be out here."

Murphy grins. He knows he's insufferable - he loves it.

"You're the one doing the tracking," he says, nudging his shoulder to Bellamy's, "it seems like you're the incompetent one."

"Big word, Murphy."

They've been out in the woods for nearly six hours. It's starting to get dark, and cold, and Murphy's feet hurt, but Bellamy is adamant that he's on the track of a deer and he's so _close_. In Murphy's honest opinion, he's tracking fuck all and just wants to torture him. He isn't built for long distance, and their water's nearly out.

"We can pick up the trail again in the morning," Murphy huffs, zipping his jacket all the way. "Besides, you're a piss poor shot when you're tired."

"Fuck you."

It's said light-heartedly. Bellamy straightens, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. Murphy notices the bags under his eyes, the way his lips pull together and brows tighten. He's disappointed, he realises, and Murphy throws his hands up in resignation.

"Fine, let's find this deer and get back before dark."

It's stupid, Murphy knows, but he feels a twinge of regret every time he looks at Bellamy. He tries so hard for the people in Arkadia, but gets little recognition in return. It's not always enough, and Murphy can't help but sympathise. He knows how it feels.

It takes them another forty-five minutes before they catch sight of the deer - Murphy cracks a joke about its single head and gets bruised toes in return. Bellamy takes the shot, misses the heart, but pierces the lungs and the deer isn't running for long before it collapses.

"Nice shot."

"Go to hell, Murphy."

It's a tough feat to carry the deer between them, but somehow they manage. Arkadia is six miles away, and the sun is beginning to set. They have bullets to spare, thanks to Mt. Weather's arsenal, and there aren't that many dangers in the woods (besides scaly panthers and mutant gorillas, as Murphy kindly reminds Bellamy), so it isn't too much of a problem.

They've learned a lot about radiated Earth after taking down Mt. Weather. The animals, the plants, what's safe to eat and what isn't, and fresh water resources. Admittedly, the grounders give them little leeway to hunt and use the land for themselves, but they make the most of what they have. Yes, that includes sending Bellamy and Murphy, of all possible duos, on a hunting trip. They had already returned to Arkadia once today, backpacks full of bloodied rabbits and three-eyed squirrels. Kane had praised them briefly, but sent them on their way as soon as their bottles were topped and bellies filled.

They're about three miles away from Arkadia when Bellamy stumbles, the deer on his back slipping and taking Murphy down with him.

"What's wrong with you?" Murphy bites.

Bellamy brings a hand up to his forehead and wipes the sweat away. His cheeks are flushed, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

"Nothing," he says, clearing his throat and picking up his end of the deer. "Just a little overworked, maybe."

"Boo-hoo."

It isn't for another ten minutes that Murphy begins to feel it too. They've been on their feet day after day. His feet hurt, sure, but his knees tremble, his throat is dry. He isn't overworked.

It's weird.

Like there's something under his skin, itching, trying to escape.

Bellamy looks over at Murphy, one eyebrow raised. Without noticing, they've stopped again. Bellamy is supporting himself against a tree, panting.

"You feeling this too?" he asks.

"If you mean sex-starved and horny, then sure."

Bellamy pales. Murphy smirks. He's always had such a crude tongue.

"Let's just get back," Bellamy mutters, brushing the matter aside and pushing himself off the tree. Murphy's right, though. That's definitely how he feels. Maybe. He hasn't had sex in a long time - maybe he _is_ overworking himself.

They begin to pass familiar territory. The river that proves difficult to pass, all gushing waters and slippery rocks, the buried car that Finn once told them about, (which had been used for protection from acid fog numerous times); even the tree they had dangled Atom from.

"Maybe it's grounder viagra," Murphy says after a while.

Bellamy doesn't even turn to look at him, he just rolls his eyes and continues guiding Murphy through the trees.

"No, for real," he insists, "if we've got drug nuts and poisonous apples, who's to say we don't have sexy berries."

Bellamy groans. "Please shut up."

"I'm getting kinda hard."

His cheeks are tinting red, Bellamy knows. Murphy always does this to him - he knows just how to rile him up in the all the wrong ways.

"We're nearly at camp," he says, and tries to mentally compose himself.

"What about you?"

"What about me, Murphy?"

It's at this point that Bellamy stops and slides the deer off his shoulders.

"You want to walk into Arkadia like that?"

Murphy approaches him with a cat-like grin. "I can help you out, you know." His hands are hovering near Bellamy's waist now, fingertips brushing the blue cloth of his shirt. "If you return the favour."

Bellamy's breath hitches. They haven't been this close in a long time - not since the fiasco with Charlotte. He's not sure if it's the shock of Murphy's suggestion, or whatever has stirred this up inside of him, but Bellamy feels as though he's about to pass out. "I'm not-" he pauses, looking anywhere but directly into Murphy's eyes. "We can't. It's not right."

"Why not?" Murphy whispers, leaning forward to brush his lips against Bellamy's ear. By now, his lithe fingers curl into Bellamy's shirt, pressing ever so gently into the curves of his hips. "I want to."

"Gina, she-"

"She's not your girlfriend yet."

Murphy presses the slightest of kisses to Bellamy's jaw. He's unusually gentle.

"Come on," he urges, "you know you want to."

When Bellamy raises his hands to press against Murphy's chest and push him gently away, Murphy whines. His eyes are drooping, his lips parted with hurried breaths escaping. Either Bellamy has more self-control, or Murphy's got it worse.

"Bellamy-"

-and that's all it takes. Bellamy circles one arm around Murphy's thin waist and presses their bodies close. They kiss softly, at first, before Murphy rushes in - all tongue and teeth and whimpering moans. Bellamy rolls his hips against Murphy's, sliding his fingers under his shirt and dragging his nails across his pale skin until he gets the hint, and Murphy frantically pulls it off.

His deft fingers made quick work of removing Bellamy's shirt as well, and moves to his trousers, slipping a hand inside to stroke Bellamy through his boxers.

Bellamy's lips are on his neck now, leaving stains of blue and purple and red. Murphy's complexion means he scars easily. Bellamy's not sure if he's at all apprehensive to deal with the consequences or if he just wants everyone to know exactly who Murphy belongs to.

"You like that?" Murphy murmurs.

Bellamy gasps in reply and Murphy cruelly removes his hand. Instead he settles them back on Bellamy's waist, where they seem to fit so perfectly.

It's Bellamy's turn to take control and, oh God, he does. Their pants and boxers are around their thighs in seconds and Bellamy has Murphy against the tree and he's grinding and thrusting and wrapping his hand around both of their cocks and Murphy just can't _breathe_.

"Bellamy," he whimpers.

Murphy presses his thumbs into Bellamy's hipbones and uses his fingers to pull them closer. It isn't even grinding anymore - they're rutting like dogs in heat. Bellamy's nails are leaving scars on Murphy's ass cheeks and he leans in to kiss so roughly that their lips bleed.

Murphy is all gasps and whines, begging from the back of his throat.

And then he's coming all over Bellamy's hand and abs, knees quivering and it's only Bellamy tightly grabbing his ass that keeps him upright, and Bellamy follows soon after, Murphy's name on his lips as he grinds his way through his orgasm.

Bellamy relaxes his grip as he comes down from his high, wrapping his arms around Murphy's small frame and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He leaves a fluttering kiss on Murphy's protruding collarbone.

"Definitely a grounder aphrodisiac," he laughs breathlessly. "That was so good."

Murphy would agree, but frankly he's still struggling to breathe. Instead he hooks his arms around Bellamy's shoulders and brings him in closer. Neither would ever admit the mutual need for affection, but it is there.

"Good to know you can still get it up, though," he jabs eventually, "old man."

Bellamy releases an indignant huff, but says nothing more as he leans into Murphy for just a while longer.

Yeah, this is good.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a very long time, but here you go.
> 
> I'm open to feedback, and prompts. My tumblr is bellamy-b. I also run murphamy-week and fuckyeahmurphamyfanfic. 
> 
> I'm a murphamy slut, apparently.
> 
> So is murphamyandclexaforever, my wonderful beta. Thank you so much. <3


End file.
